


Destined to Meet

by Yoko_Fujioka



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, and shin's an intuitively good guess of character, both are studying to be doctors, i feel like my style and content has changed so much, kazu's actually pretty smart, kinda sorta jock and nerd au, mutual curiosity and admiration, myers briggs and all my usual headcannons/character studies, there's an obvious chasm where i picked this up again whOOPS, very little dialogue again sorry :c, where they never met in jr high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5862412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoko_Fujioka/pseuds/Yoko_Fujioka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://hoboshorts.tumblr.com/post/138372527588/brolinapproved-living400lbs-daji-ruhu-systlin">the already overdone tumblr prompt</a>: "My favorite college experience is when I had a 7am class and the kid next to me literally poured a monster energy drink into his coffee, said 'I’m going to die', and drank the whole thing"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destined to Meet

**Author's Note:**

> I (technically) made it!!! *collapsed on the ground with her arms out in front of her* So, I set out to write **one fic a month** this year, and Ao3 is probably going to say this was posted on the first of February, thanks you guys, but it is my fault for procrastinating so bad when this was already started in October of 2014 *sweat drops*
> 
> I should really stop comparing myself to what I wrote in December, though, 5k in a week is almost like...LOL who wrote that?? Definitely not me. So I was a lot slower this week, but I have a lot of ideas so hopefully the next few months'll be easier, if not for having TOO MANY ideas LOLOL.
> 
> So, **some notes of things to know** : this is well into their fourth or fifth year of school, so when they call each other things like “jock” or “monster boy” these aren’t like some off-handed insult that’s a nod to what we know already, It’s more like what they know of each other from the rumors. (Takao being the school slut-->not really, and Midorima turning down the basketball coach even when begged on his hands and knees-->also not true.)
> 
> Since I really waited until the last minute to even finish this, it's barely even been beta-read by me, so any suggestions are much appreciated <3

Yet another dreary, slightly foggy day, another 7 a.m. class as people filed into the high-rise seats of the cliché college classroom, their dead fish eyes tattling that they would have readily sold their soul for one last drink the previous evening. In the front, middle row sat an unusually tall boy with even more unique green hair, matching eyes shining with a good night’s rest, although they were narrowed in disdain towards anyone in his line of sight. He hadn’t sat there to people watch as they came in, only intending to get the most out of what the lecturer had to say with the least distractions, but it was already clear that his classmates were going to be unbearable _at best_

The professor was Murakami Haruka, famous for his unbelievable success rate, and one of Shintarō’s personal heroes. He had been waiting to learn from him for years, essentially since he had begun dreaming of being a doctor, and there was little that was about to steer him away from that simple goal. The greenette had so many questions for the professor that when he realized that he was watching the clock so intensely that the second hand seemed to take minutes to move, he chastised himself for his excitability. He had to distract himself or he’d go crazy just waiting for class to start, so he began by writing down everything and anything in his notebook from goals and questions to his studying schedule for that day until the scrape of the chair beside him made him lose his train of thought. 

Glaring up from under his eyelashes for this rude interruption, Shintarō had a moment, just a millisecond, where he forgot where he was and just stared unabashedly at the conventionally attractive man standing next to him. One of mystery hunk’s hands was on the back of the chair, and the other started flat on the tabletop as he pulled the chair back, but he then moved it unconsciously to brush his bangs back, exposing more of the face that had previously been covered by shaggy, thick bangs.

He was obviously the popular type, perhaps even playing a sport since he had an odd tan for the season, slight bicep muscles visible through long sleeve shirt he was wearing. The pretty boy had bags under his eyes, like everyone else there, but unlike the others, the blue orbs were in no way dead or glassy. Foggy with sleep and still slightly closed, yes, but there was also a vivid spark there, seemingly twinkling with some unspoken joke. He couldn’t have been much older than the greenette, and the other would in fact guess that he was probably younger, even (only partially on account of his height), but there were already visible laugh lines beside his mouth, which Shintaro was about to get a taste of first-hand.

For whatever reason the spring-haired boy had been so sure that the other was completely unaware of his gaze that he jumped quite violently when the other man turned and looked him right in the eyes, giving him a blinding smile that made Midorima's entire face flush red long after he had returned his gaze to the notebook. Mumbling quietly (but angrily) under his breath, the greenette willed the burning sensation on his ear tips away by pretending like it wasn’t real, entirely missing the very amused expression of the ravenette on his other side. 

After that, no further attempts made to regain Midorima’s attention seemed to work, making the ravenette pout slightly but sigh when he realized that he might just be at a dead end with the pretty but monster-tall boy. Interacting with some friends on a riser behind them he knew from an earlier semester, Kazunari suddenly noticed that the conversation had dramatically changed, one friend’s loud laughter causing him to jump awake, the others laughing at him with knowing smiles. Returning the favor, the ravenette gestured for them to wait before swiveling around in his chair (which he had been sitting in backwards, rather than moving it) to grab for his messenger bag, his gaze once again traveling to the greenette sitting all by his lonesome, no headphones or distractions visible but still seemingly in his own little world. 

Suddenly wondering if it was worth even that glare to get the other man’s attention again, the ravenette reached down into his bag without even looking, blindly pulling out a thermos and a long, thin aluminum can by feel while his mind wandered, a plan already semi-formulated. 

When Takao opened the can with a long hiss, Midorima’s entire body tensed with annoyance and for a second the ravenette hoped that he might actually say something this time, only to be sorely disappointed when the other seemed hell-bent on ignoring him entirely, hunching his shoulders even farther over his notebook. Then opening the thermo as well, the warming aroma of coffee filled the area around him, and it was only then that his neighbor turned back around, his face unguarded like he wasn’t quite aware of what he was doing. Accepting the small victory for what it was, Takao made sure to contain his smile a bit as he looked the man straight in the eyes and poured the energy drink into his coffee, shocking the greenette quite visibly. 

“This is probably going to kill me” He declared to no one in particular, toasting his neighbor with a small grin before tipping his head back and downing the entire thermos of the wicked concoction in one gulp. Looking back down, face only slightly soured with the particular taste, he was at least glad to see the confused expression the so called “monster boy” was giving him. Success!

“If only I were so lucky” was the only response, Shintarō looking surprised for another moment or so before he almost seemed expectant, like ‘who else who do something that stupid’. It irked Takao in the sort of way that made him even more curious. He was getting past the stage of just wanting to annoy and get the other man’s attention, now he wanted to have an actual conversation.

Of course not all professors were late to their own classes, and Murakami was of the punctual ones, as even Takao would have expected without knowing as much as Shintarō did of him. The educator must have recognized Shintarō for his resemblance to his father, allowing a tight-lipped allusion that he knew who he was before he stepped up to his pedestal and dove headfirst into the lesson.

University was not going to be like high school, pretty much everyone knew that, especially if they were going to go into a major as specific and lucrative as medicine. Murakami really wasted no time with going over the syllabus or introductions, even, and Midorima fell in love as soon as the lesson started. It was a bit hard for even him to take his ideal notes (he always wanted to write EVERYTHING down since you never know what you might need), but he would go and re-write his notes later. This was both because re-writing it helped him remember and clean notes would be more pleasing to the eyes, messiness often made him stop what he was doing just to fix it, even if that was his roommate’s desk on the other side of their shared living space. 

Thankfully Shintarō was so focused on his own work he didn’t even pay attention to the annoyance in the next seat over, easily blocking out the sound of humming that was often off the beat of the tapping muted by the paper on his eraser.

With any luck, the bother had realized this wasn’t the class for him (along with all these other annoyances) and would be transferred before the end of the month. To not even be taking notes, how much nerve did this guy have? Was he just hoping to fail and prove a point so his parents wouldn’t continue to dream his future for him?

On the outside Shintarō was still stone-faced and doing his work, but on this inside he laughed snidely at his own idea, a terrible student going into medicine at his parent’s direction. He probably barely even passed high school.

Interrupted by the “oooh, ahh” sound of an elementary schooler impatient for the teacher to realize they had raised their hand, Shintarō looked up again…to find the annoyance was directly questioning their teacher. 

Like he thought this was an incredibly enjoyable game or something, the jock-looking boy continued challenging the teacher not just on general things, but parts of his expertise that he was trying to teach them. 

Who the hell did this idiot even think he was, just waltzing into his hero’s classroom and acting like he even knew what he was talking about, let alone enough to directly contradict an expert in this very field!

The simpleton didn’t even look like he was taking his own theories seriously, just saying whatever popped up in his head…but when Shintarō actually listened to him, even he had to admit that while the ideas were unbacked by any sort of evidence, he had good ideas, looking at it from a really “backwards” perspective that Shintarō himself would have never even dipped his toes in. There was nothing wrong with what was already established, after all, but Shintarō really had to wonder how the other’s brain worked, to go so far out of his way to make things difficult and not take them as they are. He had always been more interested in the physical than emotional side of health and medicine, but he was curious to know how the other ticked.

Murakami seemed impressed, or at least willing to go along, so they went back and forth for a couple of minutes before the elder man sighed with a grandfatherly sort of smile.

“Alright Mr. Takao, I think we get the idea now, if you’ll let me get back to what we came here for” gained some tittering laughter, especially from those in the row right behind them, one of the boys even leaning over the table and punching him in the shoulder a little too hard, making him visibly wince.

“This again, Kazu-chan? You never learn, do you?” At least two people nearby piped in not too quietly, said man laughing at least in self-deprecation.  
“C’mon, it’s a fun game, keeps everyone on their toes, too!” He shout-whispered in response behind his hand, twisting his body slightly at the hips to face his friends.

“As if we need it, in this class!” someone joked as if they couldn’t believe his nerve before they were shushed once and for all.

Looking over one last time, he wasn’t quite sure why, Shintarō somehow wasn’t surprised at all at the type of smile on this Takao person’s face. Smug pride, like he had shown everyone up by making them look stupid in comparison, didn’t fit him at all. It was repetitive, but he looked like he was simply enjoying himself, eyes sparkling with something different then when he had first come in.

Glancing at the other’s notes, there was something written there now, but it wasn’t nearly as literal as the way the greenette took notes. In fact, it looked more like a game day plan, certain phrases circled with arrows then pointing it to something else. Several different colors of pens were used, and the entire arrangement was an eclipse shape orbiting out, written willy-nilly and then connected afterwards, instead of cleanly up and down. 

At this point the two were perfectly aware that they were watching each other, but instead of communicating that, writing notes on the header of one another’s notebooks or otherwise trying to start a conversation, they backed off entirely.

When Murakami dismissed them, they didn’t even glance at each other, Takao turning around to talk to his friends as he slid his papers into his bag with a single hand swipe, Midorima on the other hand turning with his back to him so he could slowly organize his things. Any loose sheets were sandwiched neatly between alternating pages of his notebook, according to what they corresponded to. Books and folders were arranged in his bag according to size so as not to get dwarfed by each other, and pencils and small knickknacks were carefully dropped into small pockets that could be closed to avoid anything being lost, which he had been very adamant about his bag needing when searching for the perfect one.

They walk to exit on opposite sides of the riser, too, even though Midorima specifically chose this seat, the second closest to the door in this section, so he could make a quick and smooth exit at the end of the lesson, to avoid any idiots and unnecessary noise. It’s nothing more than a necessary step, however, when Takao finishes socializes around the time he’s done cleaning up, Midorima slowing his steps just a little so they don’t reach the door at the same time, taking special notice to little motions the shorter male made, how he moved his hands certain ways when he talked to match the rise of his voice.

They left a few steps behind each other, parting to different sides of the hallway as well, neither looking back.

Since the classes were more specified they wouldn’t have the luck to share as many, so Midorima was surprised when he saw the other laying with his head down on the desk, nestled between his arms to block out some of the light, just a few hours later. He made an effort to make most of his classes in the morning, so this was his last, but it wasn’t even 3 pm yet and apparently the ravenette’s caffeine burst was already waning.

In fact, since professors were very unlikely to mess with their students and how they wanted to learn, nobody even woke Takao up, Midorima, having sat with an empty seat separating them, constantly looking over in surprise at how deeply the other was sleeping, apparently completely conked out. 

This was a bit more relaxed of a class, but still without a lot of dallying, so Midorima had more than enough time to make a second copy of his notes, admittedly in his own style still since he didn’t think he had the thought process to even try and make such loose notes. He could’ve been a terrible person, acted like one of the ravenette’s friend’s probably would have and made half-assed notes, but he felt like he actually wanted to do this, so he directly copied them from his own.

At the end of his class, he finished the notes with a steady hand, cleaning up his things in the same slow, deliberate pace, not the least bit worried the other man might wake up and catch him, at this point.

He then left the notes next to Takao’s elbow, just the barest corner underneath his weight, with no name of any sort of indication who might’ve written them. He had most likely sneaked a peek at Midorima’s notes as well, and the greenette had no doubt that he would recognize his handwriting, but he still left a little footnote, a riddle with no explanation. 

“When the day after tomorrow becomes yesterday, the day which would then be today will be as far from Sunday as the day which is yesterday when it's two days after that day's tomorrow. What day of the week was this spoken?”

The next day, Midorima was sitting in his dorm room studying at his desk when his roommate came in noisily, an unusually wide smile on his face.

“Midorima, man, this was on the door and it’s gotta be for you. I didn’t know you had friends here!” His laughter was annoying as ever as he passed Midorima’s desk on the way to his bed, and the greenette merely glanced at him before looking back at his work, although his attention was caught when he noticed that his roommate had dropped a whiteboard on the tabletop as he passed by.

An unfamiliar whiteboard, with a makeshift string that implied someone was using it as a message board on their door. Midorima had never seen it before, would’ve had no clue where it came from, if not for the single word written in bright green dry erase pen, thin but loopy and a little slanted to the left from the way his shoulders squared when he wrote. 

“Wednesday”

**Author's Note:**

> What I meant about Kazu’s notes orbiting out was that he writes the first couple notes directly in the middle of his notebook, in an eclipse shape. When the shape closes, he writes just above the last memo, circling the last shape again and again until he reaches the margins. Each eclipse might be a different color, or he might have the hindsight to immediately pick up what the professor said is in possible connection with, and instinctively picks the matching color. 
> 
> *shrugs* So, if I were to do this story properly, this would be part of a long long fic, but I have absolutely no idea what could happen next. I’ve realized, even more than just the dialogue itself, actually writing events out instead of glossing over them in the past tense would make my writing a LOT better, and would result in stories more than a thousand for once, and although I think I’m getting better with it, ???? 
> 
> In this particular one I was super stuck for what kazu could say that would be relevant to a surgeon, but still controversial…if anyone comments an idea I will literally edit the fic to add the new dialogue because I’m super up for it.
> 
> I was really unimpressed with this fic but at least by the end I had turned it around some, so yay me?? I would really really love to get comments, though, and [you can poke me at any point](http://www.yokofujioka.tumblr.com/) in the next 11 months to remind me to get my butt together and write--trust me, I need it! LOL


End file.
